Every Memory
by heffy
Summary: I wanted to hate him. He and his freckled pauper and his know it all mudblood. He and his stupid scar, stupid broomstick. I wanted to despise him...But I didn't. DM HP Not Slash
1. chapter 1

Name: Hannah-Freya

Email: 

Rating: PG so far

Pairing: Will be DM/HrG

Summary: _What happens when you're presented with an opportunity to have everything you ever wanted? Would you take it? _(NOT SLASH!)

Summary for this part: The beginning, and the forming of an idea...

**Part 1**

I'll never forget the first time we met. The start of our first year, we were both eleven.  
  
Two boys, the same age, starting the same school, both involved in the arduous task of being fitted for robes (a dreaded past-time for any male), both wizards.  
  
So it doesn't take a genius to follow the equation and come up with the answer that we should've been friends... should've gotten along at the very least.  
  
But we didn't.  
  
Of course I didn't know who he was then. Didn't see the scar that marked him as surely as any sign could, that he was one chosen, above all others, to do something great. Didn't know that he possessed a Gryffindor heart (an ultimate failure as I had always been taught).  
  
I only saw a boy. A boy my age. A boy, like me being fitted for school robes, who like me, didn't have doe-eyed parents standing by. Who, like me, seemed to have no one.  
  
I will admit here, I was socially inept. The only company I'd ever been privy to were those my father deemed acceptable, who spent the whole time either fawning over me or stood terrified, agreeing to everything I said (no matter how wrong) terrified of causing me displeasure.  
  
So it's fair to say, the only social interaction, the only experience I had of trying to please, were those who had already convinced themselves that because of my name, I was perfect. An ideal "friend".  
  
Of course, I tried to please my father, but that's another task entirely. Nothing short of perfection was good enough for him... and yet, my whole life he taught me that anything and everything I would do was right because of who I was. Because of my name I would always be the best. Was the best. Was the one everyone wanted to be, or at least, the one everyone wanted to be near ("like moths to a flame", he had said). But everything I did was never 'quite' enough for Father. I always saw it in his eyes. Simply because I wasn't him, wasn't the very emulation of him, meant I would never be a perfect 10 in his eyes... but a 10 in the eyes of one of our namesake (as he always told me), was an 100 in everyone else's (he always spat the last part, as if they were dirt).  
  
Simply because of who I was, I would automatically be a 100 to everyone else, but to my own father I would never even be a 10.  
  
That eleven-year-old boy was the first one to truly shatter that.  
  
Of course I had heard of him. Had admired him. He was a 100 in everyone's eyes; he was one worthy of my friendship. He wasn't a moth, he too was a flame. And together we would burn brightly.  
  
But he refused me.  
  
True I didn't go about the offer in the most... diplomatic way possible.  
  
The arrogance and confidence in my voice wasn't felt at that moment... I wasn't nervous, I was certain of his acceptance, but I had opened myself up to him in a way I hadn't for anyone else.  
  
I had been eager, and images of us as friends flashed through my mind as I held out my hand.  
  
I had, in those arrogant words offered myself to him.  
  
And he refused.  
  
It had stung just as badly as if he had slapped me. The first thing I felt was shock.  
  
He had turned me down. He refused me. Knew my name and still refused me.  
  
But the thing that sent me reeling was the hurt. I had wanted his friendship. I had wanted him to be, not as all others were to me, not as Crabbe and Goyle were, but as a friend. I had seen us playing pranks on pathetic Hufflepuffs together, being team-mates on the Slytherin Quiddich team together. I had seen him as (almost) an equal...  
  
He had refused.  
  
And so went the shock, the hurt, replaced instead with bitterness, jealousy, rage.  
  
I wanted to hate him. He and his freckled pauper and his know-it-all mudblood. He and his stupid scar, stupid broomstick.  
  
But I didn't. I still don't.  
  
Oh I don't like him, mind. To an outsider my feelings for Potter would appear to be hatred, loathing. But they're not. Just as before bitterness, jealousy and rage were my companions in his stead.  
  
I was green with envy over him. I thought at first it was because he always saved the day (Saint Potter), or because he always won the Quiddich game (Perfect Potter), or because he could do ANYTHING and get away with it (Golden Gryffindor).  
  
I thought that for years.  
  
But at the end of fourth year, I began to understand I was envious, jealous, for an entirely different reason.  
  
This great epiphany occurred on the very last day of our fourth year.  
We were all on the train, on the way home. I had to see him, had to knock him down a peg or two.  
  
And I did.  
  
I saw it in his eyes at the mention of the Hufflepuff martyr.  
  
But it wasn't that.  
  
The moment occurred as I was dragged (or rather, thrown) from his compartment.  
  
I envied Potter his friends. I was blinded with jealousy, that he had what I wanted, but could never had.  
  
I spent the summer going over every memory I had of the Golden Trio.  
  
And I wondered what it was like, to laugh, to be accepted, to be loved.  
  
I wondered what it would be like to have people rush from the stands after a Quddich game as fast as their feet could carry them, to see that I was all right.  
  
To have them argue with Madame Pomfrey because they didn't want to leave my side. To positively glow when they saw that I was all right.  
  
I wondered what it was like to BE Potter.


	2. chapter 2

Name: Hannah-Freya

Email: 

Rating: PG so far

Pairing: Will be DM/HrG

Summary: _What happens when you're presented with an opportunity to have everything you ever wanted? Would you take it?_ (NOT SLASH!)

Summary for this part: Draco reaches a decision...

Part Two 

I wanted to be Potter. Just for one moment.

To be the hero.

I wanted to be a part of the golden trio.

Oh, I haven't gone soft. I still look down on the Weasel, and the Mudblood.

They are less than me.

Logically I know this, but still I want them. I want Granger to look at me adoringly like she does Potter. I want to throw my head back and laugh as heartily as Potter because of something amusing the Weasel has said.

I want to know what it is that they do when all of Hogwarts is asleep. What they whisper about when their heads enclose in their little circle. How they manage to foil all of the Dark Lord's plans.

When we returned to school to start our fifth year, Harry's credibility was shot.

I revelled in it. Finally perfect precious Potter was finally being put in his place.

All the same, the golden group seemed to find happiness among them.

Through power given to me by the new DADA teacher, I pursued them.

I hated that they smiled. I wanted to wipe the grins off their faces That they laughed. That people (even if they were few and far between) still talked to them.

I watched them.

No one ever noticed.

Years went by. My habit continued.

Fifth year came and went.

One day, as the final days of our sixth year ticked by, I watched Granger out of the corner of my eye as she scowered the library.

She glanced up, and her face lit up as she smiled. I was struck by the change. I wondered at it's cause. I had barely even finished the thought when Potter entered into the frame. She moved her books to make room for him at the table she occupied, as she chattered away with her friend she positively glowed.

I found myself wondering absently if I had ever made anyone light up just by my presence-

just by entering a room.

I wondered if I had, infact, ever made anyone light up for ANY reason to do with me.

I slamed shut, and picked up my books. Flanked by Crabbe and Goyle I walked by 'their' table, made a (required) scathing remark to them, and glided my way to the Slytherin Common Room.

As I sank onto my favourite lounge Crabbe and Goyle stood awaiting my instruction. With a flick of my hand I waved them off, and, like dogs being let off their leads, they bounded off-

to merlin knows where.

I sat there, on my lounge for hours. Staring off into space. Completely silent but for the ticking of an ancient Grandfather clock. Completely dark but for the flickering of a few candles.

It was then that I came to a realisation.

I wanted to be Potter.

Therefor, I would be Potter.


	3. chapter 3

Name: Hannah-Freya

Email: 

Rating: PG so far

Pairing: Will be DM/HrG

Summary: _What happens when you're presented with an opportunity to have everything you ever wanted? Would you take it?_ (NOT SLASH!)

Summary for this part: The green-eyed monster attacks as Draco watches and waits...

**Part 3**

What a Malfoy wanted, a Malfoy got.  
  
The age-old creed, passed down from generation to generation.  
  
It was encroached in his very being, flowed through his blood. Sang to him every moment.  
  
He wanted it; therefore, he would have it.  
  
Aboard the train, he stared out the window as Pansy prattled gaily on about some insipid nonsense. The scenery blurred, became a swirling haze of colour.  
  
He had worked out what he wanted; now the only thing left was to get it.  
  
But how to go about it?  
  
He supposed, there was always the Polyjuice Potion- but that would only give him an hour. During which, he had to get Potter out of the way, change into a Gryffindor uniform, and, find his way to the Gryffindor Common Room (the whereabouts of which, he would need to discover).

All in all, he'd scarce have time to draw breath, and that was not what he wanted. He wanted to savour being an accepted member of the Golden Trio.  
  
Quite frankly, he was feeling a bit stumped.  
  
He felt his nails begin to dig into the plush cushion of his seat as his mind went silently around in circles, always ending up in the same spot- a four sided room, from which there appeared to be no exit.  
  
He forced himself to calm. He unclenched his fists. What he needed was the Malfoy library- He would find his answers there.  
  
Without warning, he abruptly stood up, halting Pansy mid speech, threw the compartment door open and swept down the train corridor. He heard Crabbe and Goyle stumbling behind him in an attempt to catch up. He swirled around and glared.  
  
"I shall not be requiring your company just now"  
  
They stared at him. He sighed.  
  
"I wish to be alone"  
  
Still they stood there. He never ceased to be amazed at their stupidity.  
  
"Go away"  
  
This, they understood, and began to trudge back to their compartment.  
  
He recommenced his journey down the corridor, using his peripheral vision to observe the occupants of each compartment.  
  
At length, he found them.  
  
The 'Golden Gryffindors'.

Normally, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle he would use this time to burst through their door and exchange insults. This usually resulted in unconsciousness and a variety of boils and sores.  
  
But, with the decision of finally seizing what he desired, had come a certain contentment- he no longer felt the need to cast a shadow over them, no longer needed to wipe the smiles off their faces.  
  
So, instead he simply cast a concealment charm upon himself, and observed them through the window.  
  
They were joined by a red haired girl, that Draco dimly recognized as Virginia, who was the younger sibling of "Ron".  
  
Weasley's face was as red as a tomato, and he appear to be engaged in an argument with Granger.  
  
Potter was rolling his eyes, but he had a smile on his face, scenes like this between Weasley and Granger must be quite common, he deduced.  
  
With a flip of her hair, Granger turned to Potter and glared, the smile on his face froze, he gave an embarrassed cough and said something that appeared to be a change of subject, because Weasley's face returned to a normal colouring, Granger began to speak animatedly and they abruptly burst into laughter.  
  
Watching them, Draco felt something clench in his stomach. It was a feeling he was quite familiar with experiencing when looking at Potter and his friends.  
  
He backed away from the window.  
  
Soon.  
  
He told himself, and felt his stomach loosen somewhat.  
  
Soon he would be the hero.


	4. Chapter 4

Name: Hannah-Freya

Email: 

Rating: PG so far

Pairing: Will be DM/HrG

Summary: _What happens when you're presented with an opportunity to have everything you ever wanted? Would you take it?_ (NOT SLASH!)

Summary for this part: The search begins...

Part 4 

The journey to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire was long, and uneventful, but blessed him with time to think.

He needed to prepare and gather together facts about the 'Dream Team'.

He wanted to spend time with them as Potter. He wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted. To have real, genuine friends.

In order for this to happen though, he would need them to think that he WAS Potter, Harry, he corrected himself- that would be the first step, he would have to train himself to use their names, their first names.

He knew Weasley's name was Ron, but when it came to Granger, he drew a complete blank. He felt a tugging in the back of his mind; it started with 'H'...

No matter, before being sent to Azkaban, his father had compiled a very comprehensive file on each of 'the potter brat's friends', as he had called them. He would spend his summer holidays scouring them and imprinting to memory all of it's facts.

Arriving at the entrance to the Manor, he swept up the grand staircase with the agility of someone who had done so many a time.

He went directly to his Fathers study, found the secret compartment in his desk and selected several thick files which he knew contained information about 'The Boy Who Lived'. He then headed for the eastern wing of the mansion, swept up the stairs, and began trailing his fingers expertly across the wall.

When a soft 'click' sounded, he knew he had found what he was looking for, he touched the tip of his wand to the spot, and a panel on the wall slid open, revealing an opening big enough for a fully grown man to comfortably enter. He slipped through the space and was greeted by darkness. The opening shut behind him, locking him in black oblivion.

He reached out with a hand, and was greeted by a damp, stone wall. He knocked five times, and the room flooded with the light of an unseen torch.

A giant serpent was carved into the stone, but the head was made of metal and proudly jutted forward. The snake's mouth was open, and he placed his right hand inside, resting on the cool metal which served as the floor of it's mouth. The moment he did this, the jaws clamped shut, trapping his hand, up to his wrist inside. The grip was uncomfortably tight, but Draco forced himself to relax, if he moved or tried to pull his hand out of the grip, the jaws would slice his hand off- a booby-trap for any Aurors or unwelcome visitors seeking entrance.

"A Malfoy, purest of pure demands entrance" he intoned

There was a soft groaning of steel, and he tensed, something sharp slid across the palm of his hand, he felt the trickling of blood and his hand was promptly released from the snake's jaws.

The stone wall, and serpent shimmered and vanished, revealing a new room, which, though lit by torches, was still dark and ominous. This room had terrified him as a boy and still succeeded in severely unnerving him.

The Malfoys were great collectors of anything pertaining to dark and powerful magic. These artifacts had always been stored in two places, in this room, and in a room underneath the dining room floor. A tip from one of his fathers friends in the Ministry during his second year warning them of an imminent raid on the Manor had seen the objects of the room below the dining room moved here.

In this room were more dangerous and evil magical objects than every shop in Knockturn Alley put together could boast.

If there was a means to get his end, it would be found in this room.


End file.
